


im like a commotion but you get me

by tattookiss



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattookiss/pseuds/tattookiss
Summary: Clarke shook her head before heaving out a deep breath. Fuck it, just go for it, she told herself.“I want you to scream for me, Bellamy.”If it was possible for someone to choke on air just by sitting there then Bellamy definitely did it with the strangled whine that came out of his mouth.Already his throat was flexing from the noise and Clarke’s eyes were so glued to the movement she didn’t even bother teasing him over his very visceral reaction.or prompts that spiraled out of control and i dont know if i will ever continue
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. dripping confidence, lose my common sense

**Author's Note:**

> title of this prompt is from dress by charlotte sands. highly recommend listening to it damn
> 
> prompt: their really hot friend is modeling for them and they blurt out an accidental innuendo, but their friend takes it literally- holy shit
> 
> also these will be completely unedited so just a fair warning

Clarke sat back and bit her lip as she ran her gaze over Bellamy’s seated position on the stool. It wasn’t that there was anything inherently wrong with how Bellamy was modeling for her, it just didn’t fit _him._

Bellamy was gorgeous, and he knew it, so just setting aside her pride to ask him to model for her had taken too much out of Clarke. 

If she really risked her entire rivalry, or _whatever this was between them_ , for him to model then she sure as hell was going to get something good out of it.

“See something you like, Princess?” Bellamy teased, dragging Clarke from her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes and hopped out of her seat to circle around him, pencil tapping against her lips, “I need, I don’t know, I need _movement._ From your neck up, I need you to do something that isn’t talking to emphasize the motion of your neck.” 

Clarke paused, stepping into his personal space to peer at his jawline and collarbone. They were, well, god-like if she was going to be honest. Rivaling the gods and goddesses he always managed to find time to rant about whenever they had game out.

She was itching to get drawing on his fascinating bone structure, but his lack of movement made it harder to capture. She needed him to... Clarke needed Bellamy to _scream._

Her heart rate skyrocketed at the very idea, but it was just what she needed. A video of Bellamy emptying his lungs to the sky, jaw unhinged, and neck completely bear for her artistic purposes. 

Not to mention, the attention to detail of his chest heaving and curls swept messily across his forehead. Clarke was gonna _fucking massacre_ her finals project.

“Clarke, you alive in there?” Bellamy ducked his head to meet her gaze, his eyes bemused, “You kind of just zoned out and stared at my collarbone for an eerily long time.”

She snapped her gaze up to his and could already feel a blush crawling up her neck at what she was about to ask. 

God, he would never let this go. The teasing would be endless, he would be insufferable. But her fingers were already tingling at the prospect and she knew there was no way she was letting this go.

Taking a deep breath, Clarke stepped back to grab her phone from the counter. Swiping open the camera app, she paused, glancing up from under her eyelashes and meeting Bellamy’s wary gaze.

“Bellamy...” She drawled.

“Clarke....” He mimicked.

“Do you...have anymore TA stuff for the rest of this week?” Clarke questioned. She didn’t think that he would lose his voice, but it was better safe than sorry. She couldn’t even imagine him trying to explain this to the teacher. 

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed, “Uh, no.. They finished the semester early for the class I was assisting in, why? You think this is gonna take that long?”

Clarke shook her head, before heaving out a deep breath. _Fuck it, just go for it._

“I want you to scream for me, Bellamy.”

If it was possible for someone to choke on air just by sitting there then Bellamy definitely did it with the strangled whine that came out of his mouth. 

Already his throat was flexing from the noise and Clarke’s eyes were so glued to the movement she didn’t even bother teasing him over his very _visceral_ reaction. 

“You want me to _what?”_ Bellamy croaked, his voice was several octaves deeper and a thrill skittered down Clarke’s spine. The effect she had on him was _interesting_ , to say the least. 

She grinned innocently as she tore her gaze away from his throat to meet his wary eyes. “I want you to scream for me.” Clarke stated bluntly, “Just the way your throat moves when you speak isn’t enough to capture, well everything else that I need for this art piece.”

Clarke paused then, as Bellamy continued to stare blankly at her. She ran over her words, making sure she hadn’t said anything intrusive or inappropriate. She didn’t want to make her model uncomfortable, that would everything, including their friendship slash rivalry or whatever.

She cleared her throat, eyes darting every which way except to meet his, “I mean, you don’t _have_ to do this. I know it’s an odd request, especially since it wasn’t any of the requirements I stated earlier. Originally, you were just supposed to sit there so I totally understand if you don’t want to do this and I can just- “

“I’ll do it.”

Clarke’s breath stuttered, “You will?”

Bellamy nodded, “On one condition though.”

Clarke nodded vigorously, “Anything.” 

“I get to make you scream afterwards.”

Clarke swore in that moment her heart stopped as she met Bellamy’s heated gaze. She thought, for a split second, that he was joking, but with the way he was looking at her, _fuck_. It was borderline feral, like he wanted to see just what kind of noises he could draw out of her. 

She swallowed tightly, “You have a deal, Blake.”

A smirk slid across Bellamy’s lips as his gaze dragged up her body to meet her eyes, “Pleasure doing business with you, Griffin.”

____

Later, through a callous argument, it was determined that Clarke screamed _much_ louder than him.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um so yeah??? this was wholly inspired by a tiktok i stumbled upon of two youtubers chatting with each other while they live streamed. and it basically went like 
> 
> youtuber #1: hey do you ever scream?
> 
> youtuber #2: uh yeah, once or twice?? 
> 
> youtuber #1: oh so would you do it for me in the future??
> 
> youtuber #2: you want me to scream for you??
> 
> youtuber #1: ....yes?
> 
> it was for music but nonetheless all i could think abt was clarke not realizing the extent of such a question cause she's in the zone and bellamy is just like tHE FUCK CLARKE?????
> 
> anyway come yell at me to make more prompts on twitter; @luminescentIove 
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated <3


	2. i thought of you (in the cracks of light)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why do you care?" She murmured quietly, so quietly that if he took barely half a step back he probably wouldn't have heard her. But he didn't, he stayed where he was even when her voice threatened the delicate in between that had embraced them in that frozen moment of the night. 
> 
> "I don't know." Bellamy whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from evermore by taylor swift. 
> 
> prompt: they go on a killing spree just to spend more time with the grim reaper who appears to take away the souls of their victims

The blood has barely just begun to dry on Clarke's fingertips when he appears. He's silent, always so silent. He slinks out of the darkness, face cloaked in the shadows that curl around him like snakes wrapping possessively around their owner.

He doesn't wear a long robe that hides his face, his beautiful features hidden from view. No, he wears a well fitted suit that's snug over his shoulders, showing off every enticing curve of his body. There's no scythe either, not like how the legends and stories depicted. A scepter is curled in his grasp, rings that glint in the light reflecting off of the silver skull that sits at the top.

A black crown sits crookedly in his nest of inky curls, giving him the illusion of a boyish king who hasn't realized the extent of his power yet. There's nothing boyish about him, not with the black smoke that emits from his head, a dark smoky halo appearing above his head giving him the appearance of an archangel.

She once asked him why the legend and stories told about the grim reaper were so wrong about the reality, but he had only stared at her with dark eyes that seemed to stare into her own soul. Later that night she couldn't tell if she wanted to scrub her body clean of his gaze or never wash again. She feared the latter was truer than she wanted it to be.

Clarke straightens up then, keeping her back to him as she absent mindedly picks at her bloodied nails as she admires her handywork on her latest victim.

"Bellamy." She states, ignoring the thrill that rushes up her spine every time she says his name. Just the fact that she knew the christian name of the fucking grim reaper was enough to send goose bumps skittering up her arms, much less saying it aloud.

"We MUST stop meeting like this."

"Princess," He murmurs, his voice scratchy from disuse, "I see you didn't waste any time to finish off your next victim."

They both look down at the body, where Cage Wallace's corpse lay limp and bloodied on the courtyard grounds. Clarke has never felt such intense relief knowing that his soulless eyes would never open ever again to prey upon the poor women of the court. Yes, Clarke certainly took much pleasure in taking this man's life.

She grins, "I think I may have outdone myself this time. It's not often times I get to take down a duke of the court. You usually happen upon me in dank alleyways standing over the body of a sleazy man who had been tormenting some poor girl in a bar. Now, however, I have taken the life of a once powerful man who can't hurt anyone else anymore."

Now that Clarke had said it aloud, she realizes that there was an exhilarating rushing through her veins in that very moment, not just the usual burst of adrenaline that swelled in her entire body.

"I don't happen upon you, princess." Bellamy scoffed, but Clarke didn't miss the slight turn of his lips at her words. He knew just what kind of dastardly man Cage Wallace was, seeing his soul barren before him.

Bellamy was proud of her; he just didn't want to admit it. Not that she expected him to or wanted him to for god sake. Killing this often was just a way to piss Bellamy off, Clarke certainly wasn't expecting damn approval from him. She didn't want _anything_ from him if she could help it.

"What happened to your face?" Bellamy's voice broke through her thoughts and she looked up to see him gazing at her, his brows furrowed, and lips puckered. She would almost call it endearing if he wasn't the fucking grim reaper.

Clarke raised her hand to her face and felt the raised skin and sensitivity of a fresh cut, sliced jaggedly across her cheek. Oh, yes, when Cage had almost gotten the better of her and pulled a dagger out of fucking nowhere, slicing the air frantically.

It would've been quite pathetic to witness if she didn't fear that he could've taken out one of her eyes. Luckily, she had been able to quickly disarm him in his panic state and send him keeling over with a firm knee to his precious jewels.

"Oh, it's nothing." She waved Bellamy's, what she assumed to be concerned, gaze away.

"Cage had managed to get the upper hand for a moment, catching me off guard, but I managed to overpower him quite easily. He only slightly knicked me." Clarke expected the conversation to drop them, for Bellamy's dark eyes to move back to the body as he asked her questions about why this was her latest victim. That's how it always went, how it should've gone.

Unexpectedly, he stepped closer to her, close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact with him. Clarke saw movement in her peripheral and before she knew it, his hand was cupping her cheek, thumb grazing over the sensitive skin.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sensation of his hand seemingly gliding over her cheek. It was simultaneously a cold breeze brushing delicately against her and the heat of a thousand candles, threatening to burn her from the inside out.

And then before it had even begun, Bellamy dropped his hand, leaving Clarke feeling oddly lukewarm. But he didn't step back, he didn't step back, and she found herself begging that he wouldn't.

"Why do you care?" She murmured quietly, so quietly that if he took barely half a step back he probably wouldn't have heard her. But he didn't, he stayed where he was even when her voice threatened the delicate in between that had embraced them in that frozen moment of the night.

"I don't know." Bellamy whispered.

His eyes were pained when Clarke dared to meet his gaze. And she understood, she understood so much that it hurt. Because he was who he was, and she? Well, she was who she was, a girl who had fallen into an odd companionship with the grim reaper under the guise of annoying the hell out of him.

But they were both hiding from the truth, the truth of what this had become to the both of them. The scary, undefinable truth that would scandalize anyone who heard it, human or not.

"Clarke..." He breathed.

She closed her eyes, relishing in the warmth that washed over her at the sound of the cadence of his voice saying her name. Wishing he would say it to her, over and over again. Because no one could say it quite like Bellamy did, the grim reaper.

When Clarke opened her eyes, Bellamy was gone and her heart along with him.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grim reaper bellamy owns my heart and soul 
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated <3


	3. my love is like a rocket, watch it blast-off (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clearing her throat, she set down her glass before turning to smooth her tunic out in the full length mirror in the corner. “Very well, let me summon a guard so we can figure out who sent for you”
> 
> She glanced back over at him, just barely missing his eyes snapping from where her hands were to her face, nodding his head lightly. 
> 
> “Yes, of course, I would like to be home before the clock strikes if that’s alright with you.” He chided, smirk ticking up his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from levitating by dua lipa cause i felt that it suited their energy 
> 
> prompt: young royalty of rivaling kingdoms find themselves set up in what seems to be a ploy of engagement.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the princess herself.”  
  
Clarke’s head whipped around to find Bellamy leaning against the bedpost, a smirk lazily spread across his lips. He looked effortlessly attractive, _as always,_ Clarke thought bitterly. His tousled curls were untamed from the lack of hair gel and his freckles were more prominent than usual, standing out in contrast to his tan skin. 

She sniffed, turning away from his smug expression that was fully aware she had been checking him out, “And to what do I owe this unpleasant visit, Prince Blake?”

He pushed off the bed frame, stepping closer and not even bothering to hide himself eyeing her up and down in her riding outfit. The most scandalous outfit Clarke could find to refute her mother with its tight leather trousers and lack of a corset.

“I was rudely interrupted mid ravishment of your dear friend Raven after she so graciously offered a method for the both of us to relieve some stress when I was given a summon from _you.”_ Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her, “So what gives, princess? Were you struck with an uncontrollable bout of jealousy? Don’t worry,” He winked, “there’s enough of me to go around.” 

Clarke fluttered her eyelashes at him, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead, “Oh, dear god, you’ve caught me Bellamy. I just couldn’t fathom the very thought of anyone else getting your dick, it was just too much for me to bear.” 

Bellamy snorted, pausing when Clarke bit her bottom lip and glanced back at him. “I just felt so terribly guilty that I didn’t have the chance to warn all of the girls at your castle how much you cried in bed. But alas, I managed to warn one girl, what was her name again?” A smirk curled onto Clarke’s lips, “Roma? Yes, I’m sure she’ll find that information especially appealing to spread around being Blake Court’s known gossip.” 

Bellamy groaned, dragging a hand through his curls, “So, that’s why Bree kept offering me tissues when I tried to go down on here last week. Well played Griffin, well played.”  
  
She preened, “Had to learn how to play dirty after Finn decided to fuck over me and Raven. Which I assume is what she was using your body for before the two of you were so rudely interrupted. Hope you didn't think she was in it for your personality.” 

Turning away, Clarke made her way over to the small bar table she had installed for her own personal misgivings, god only knows its the only way she can tolerate her mother in the same room for hours at a time.

Bellamy huffed out a laugh from behind her, “Don’t worry, my ego isn’t bruised or anything. I was well aware of the pretense when Raven approached me. Offered to beat the dickhead up for her too, but Raven had already given him a black eye after sending him back to his kingdom.”  
  
He paused, studying Clarke as she took a leisurely sip of her red wine, the apple of her cheeks pinkening as the alcohol began to run through her system. “It’s really fucked up what he did to you two, Clarke. Winning your hand when he was already betrothed to Raven since birth couldn’t have screwed you over more than you already were. Given the circumstances with the Trikru Kingdom.”

Clarke eyed him over her wine glass, searching for any indication of insincerity in his molten brown eyes. No, it seemed that Bellamy Blake could be quite full of surprises when he wanted to be. 

“Yes, well, I suppose it was silly of me to assume that Lexa would’ve waited for me to become Queen so I could rid my kingdom of the prejudiced and bigoted ruling that I could only marry a man while I ruled. Especially after discovering her first lover Costia was still alive after the failed assassination attempt.” Clarke took a long sip from her wine glass, trying to ignore the heat of Bellamy’s gaze steady on her.

Clearing her throat, she set down her glass before turning to smooth her tunic out in the full length mirror in the corner. “Very well, let me summon a guard so we can figure out who sent for you."

She glanced back over at him, just barely missing his eyes snapping from where her hands were to her face, nodding his head lightly. 

“Yes, of course, I would like to be home before the clock strikes if that’s alright with you.” He chided, smirk ticking up his lips.

She rolled her eyes, striding out into the hallway and down the corridor to where her branch of the castle led off into the main lobby. Maybe it was a lot just for Clarke to live in, but if you had Abby Griffin as your queen and mother then you would want your own country to separate yourself from her. 

She turned the corner to the main doors, but paused mid-step at the sight of Lincoln, her bodyguard, stationed at the end. 

“Lincoln,” Clarke called out, quickening her pace, “what are you doing here? I gave you the day off.” She came to a stop in front of the large, burley guard, peering up at him. 

Despite being nearly twice her size, Lincoln looked nearly pitiful and wilted under Clarke’s commanding glare as he refused to meet her eyes, focusing steadily on his boots. 

“Your mother stationed me here, m’lady. There’s been, uh, outbreak of the virus in our courts, and she fears for your safety. 

Clarke scoffed, “I’m a grown woman with a signed documentation from the kingdom’s Apothecary that legalizes me as a professional physician, not a princess who needs to be locked away in her tower.”

At this Lincoln had the decency to look slightly ashamed, bowing his head. “I’m sorry, m’lady, I truly am, but your mother’s commands overrule your own.”

Yes, Clarke was very much aware of that fact. She sighed, blowing away a blonde lock that had settled on her forehead, a tension headache beginning to form. 

“It’s not your fault Lincoln, I apologize. Do you happen to at least know why Bellamy is here? I don’t recall a meeting of sorts between our neighboring kingdoms.”

By this point Lincoln looked downright stressed, his eyebrows knitted together, and mouth pulled taut into a frown. “I apologize m’lady, I thought you knew. Queen Aurora had a meeting with your mother this morning. Prince Bellamy is your new betrothed, and you’ve been put under quarantine together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally wrote this at the very beginning of quarantine omigod. i was a different person back then i swear. it was also right before season 7 aired so,, there's also that
> 
> kudos & comments are appreciated <3


	4. and I'm feeling so electric, dance my ass off (part two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Clarke, darling, when I had planned on announcing our betrothment to you I had hoped sweeping you off your feet would be under better circumstances.”
> 
> Clarke blinked blearily up at the fuzzy figure hovering above her head, a frizz of curls covering the slope of their face, almost touching the tip of her nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is also from levitating by dua lipa. 
> 
> same prompt as before, i just decided it had a better allure if i split it apart

“Clarke, darling, when I had planned on announcing our betrothment to you I had hoped sweeping you off your feet would be under better circumstances.”

Clarke blinked blearily up at the fuzzy figure hovering above her head, a frizz of curls covering the slope of their face, almost touching the tip of her nose. 

She let out a soft groan, allowing herself to be assisted in sitting up, leaning back against the plush pillows. Clarke would have to remember to thank Harper for talking her into getting soft pillows for the quarantine room. 

“What the hell happened?” She murmured painstakingly. 

A soft chuckle sounded from her left, probably from the giant blob of frazzled curls, she surmised. “You fainted after your guard announced to you that we were betrothed and stuck in quarantine together. Which quite honestly wasn’t a reaction I expected from you of all people.”

Clarke grumbled, weakly swatting out an arm at the voice, “One might do that when they’re overwhelmed with a boatload of information that changes their life and they never consented to.”

“Touché.”

Slowly peeking her eyes open, Clarke took in the surroundings from where she lay on the bed in the quarantine room. Turning her head slightly, she met the gaze of an amused Prince Bellamy Blake, his teeth glinting in the light. 

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

“Not enough.”

Pressing the pad of her thumbs into her eye sockets, she waved a hand around in Bellamy’s direction, “So, were you just creepily waiting for me to get back from my ride so I would be stuck and subjected to your illful presence?”

Bellamy chuckled, “Trust me Princess, if I knew I was going to be stuck with you for a prolonged period of time then I would’ve finished getting laid.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, “I’m flattered you managed to keep your lust at bay on my behalf.”

His grin was nearly feral in reply, “Who said it was at bay?”

She made a disgusted noise, wrinkling her nose. “Keep it in your pants Blake.” Clarke slowly sat up, ignoring the nausea that flooded her system, and slid off the bed, stumbling dazedly. 

Bellamy shot forward, wrapping an arm around her waist, “Whoa there princess, take it easy. Can’t have you passing out on me again before you even have the chance to enjoy my company.”

Clarke moaned, leaning her head on his shoulder, head pounding, “Did you truly carry me all the way to my room?” She slurred, lolling her head back to meet his eyes.

He winced, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand, “More like I came rushing out when Lincoln yelled from your fainting and played the role of doting fiancé when he carried you in here.”  
  
“How romantic, I’m swooning.” Clarke felt Bellamy chuckle from where she leaned against him still.

“More like you’re about to pass back out again. Clarke, please sit down. I’d rather not be known as the prince who’s betrothed passed out on him not once, but twice.” Bellamy eased her back against the bed as she clutched the sheets to steady herself from the way her head seemed to be spinning.   
  
“Ah, but would that not give you plenty of opportunity to flaunt around about how your fiancée fell into your arms at just the mention of your engagement?” Clarke fanned herself as she spoke, suddenly aware of just how tight the leather trousers were around her waist. They may make her ass look great, and they certainly wouldn’t be able to rival the pain of a corset, but _god, she couldn’t breathe._

Ignoring her last comment Bellamy stepped forward to press a hand to her forward, “Are you sure you’re okay, Clarke? You’re looking paler than usual.”   
  
She groaned, waving away his hand and flailing it in the vague direction of the wardrobe that sat in the corner of the room, “I need you to grab me one of those dresses out of the wardrobe, I cannot breathe in these trousers at the moment.”   
  
Bellamy whistled, but nonetheless made his way towards the wardrobe, “Already want to undress in front of me then, Griffin? Quite scandalous, even for me. We should at least have dinner first."  
  
Clarke snorted, peeking an eye open to meet his cheesed grin from across the room, “You will be waiting outside the door, no need to spread anymore scandalous rumors about you. Especially none concerning me.”   
  
He chuckled, moving closer to toss a pale gown into her awaiting lap, “I’m afraid with the way the future looks, you’re going to have a dire time trying to avoid any rumors involving the two of us. Not after what your mother has pulled on us.” 

Clarke groaned, sitting up to clutch at the dress, “I’m going to kill her. And you’re going to help me do it.”   
  
Bellamy was already halfway out the door when he turned to shoot her a sly wink. “Sounds like a great honeymoon for the two of us, my dear _._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> til this day, this work remains my proudest when it comes to dialogue. plus, the feedback i got from the gc i sent it to was really nice as well 
> 
> kudos & comments are appreciated <3


	5. your touch brought forth an incandescent glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to kill you,” Clarke hisses, but he can feel her hand trembling where it’s pressed against his collarbone. She doesn’t feel like she wants to do this. But feeling a certain way is vastly different from actually committing to it.
> 
> Bellamy’s head falls back against the wall with a dull thump as he gazes up at the high ceilings. He’s fully aware that his throat is completely exposed to her, giving her the ability to kill him with minimum trouble, but he can’t bring himself to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from my favorite song on the evermore album, ivy. 
> 
> prompt: the prince falls in love with the one who is supposed to assassinate him

Clarke (was that even her name?) has a dagger pressed against Bellamy’s throat, a dark look in her gaze. Something flashes through her eyes he dares might believe to be remorse, but it’s gone sparsely before it had time to kindle.

“Don’t worry,” Clarke murmurs quietly, “it’s nothing personal.”

That elicits a smirk from Bellamy as he leans forward, letting the dagger dig into his throat, “Oh sweetheart,” he croons, brushing back a stray curl that had fallen out of her updo, relishing in the heady rush he receives when she flinched at his touch.

“I believe this has become anything  _but_ impersonal.”

Something must snap inside of her for she pushes even closer, the cobblestone of the castle walls digging into his back.

For a moment Bellamy lets his mind wander to another activity they could’ve been indulging in that would’ve resulted with his (or hers, he wasn’t picky) back pressed against the wall. But alas, he supposes the blade against his throat and the flush in her cheeks is all he will receive.

“I’m going to kill you,” Clarke hisses, but he can feel her hand trembling where it’s pressed against his collarbone. She doesn’t  _feel_ like she wants to do this. But feeling a certain way is vastly different from committing to it.

Bellamy’s head falls back against the wall with a dull thump as he gazes up at the high ceilings. He’s fully aware that his throat is completely exposed to her, giving her the ability to kill him with minimum trouble, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Then I suppose you might as well get it over with, I’m sure you have places to be, other royalty to assassinate. At least I assume that must be the schedule of an assassin like you.”

He feels her watching him, the weight of her stare heavy and unnerving, “Why aren’t you begging for your life right now?” Clarke murmurs quietly, a curious lilt to her tone, “I’ve taken down far worse men than the likes of you and all of them have begged and bargained up into the moment of your death, but you, you haven’t said a word. Not even from the moment I pressed the dagger against your throat.”

He looks down at her, their noses nearly bumping from the lack of distance between them, it would be so easy to lean forward and brush his lips against hers, just like he had planned to do, in what seemed like eons earlier but was mere minutes.

But then she had pulled out that blasted blade and pushed her deeper into the darker alcove they had wandered off into and the illusion was shattered. Well, he supposes it wasn’t completely shattered, he still wanted to kiss her, almost embarrassingly so.

“I suppose things will go along faster with my compliance, or at least that’s what my advisors tell me to do in light of a hostage situation. Perhaps they should try being compliant towards someone who wants to kill them and see how well it works out before they dish out advice to their rulers."

That brings a slight uptick to her mouth before it vanishes and she’s frowning again, a deliberating look on her face.

Bellamy can’t be quite sure what there is to deliberate, after all it shouldn’t be hard to slit his throat and slip out of the castle before his body is discovered.

Before he can voice this thought, however, Clarke has pulled the blade away from his throat and taken a precarious step back.

“Fallen out of practice, my dear?” He queries, one hand rising up to rub at the sore skin where the blade had pressed roughly against his throat. He was baffled, relieved, and slightly hopeful at the new turn of events.

“I-“ Clarke pauses, dragging a hand down her weary face, “I can’t kill you, no matter how much I need to.” She looks more surprised than he does at the confession, her eyes wide.

“The dreadful assassin has become fond of me, then?” Bellamy teases, a smile playing on his lips, and an emotion he couldn’t identify fluttering in his stomach.

He meets her gaze, and his smile drops at the intense look in her eyes, emotions swirling faster than he can identify.

“Maybe so..” She whispers faintly.

His breath catches in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i posted this on my twitter around a week ago, and on the yt page that inspired me, both gaining quite a bit of traction. im really tempted to write more, but i cant tell if this kind of trope is overdone or not so idk??
> 
> anyways kudos & comments are appreciated <3


End file.
